Gwanjongcheonma’s Game Broadcast - Chapter 183

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 183
[And there’s the Tornado Kick! It connects! K.O.! The match is over! Victory for Ye Da-hong! South Korea secures the opening suppression against Italy!]
-Oh man, what is even happening lol lol lol lol lol
-After Gwanjong, Da-hong too?
-Is Da-hong going for the perfect kill today? ㄷㄷㄷㄷ
-Our Blade Queen has changed ㄷㄷㄷㄷ
-Damn! These past two days have been worth watching ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ
-Alberto must’ve really wanted to win that one lol lol lol lol
-This is crazy good!
-Hey, tavern keeper! Bring me carbonara, quick!
-Playing so damn well;; is she really this skilled?
-These kids are insanely strong once they’re with the Heavenly Demon Cult lol
-The Heavenly Demon Cult is hiding its true power ㄷㄷ
-If you can’t get into the Heavenly Demon Cult you’ll waste away ㄷㄷ
-The private tutor director ㄷㄷ
-Being trained by the Heavenly Demon himself ㄷㄷ
“Wait!”
Alberto emerged from the capsule and strode purposefully toward the opposite side.
What kind of outburst was this going to be?
The crowd gasped and pointed fingers at him.
But Da-hong neither dodged nor turned away.
She simply waited.
Waited until the event staff behind her could restrain Alberto.
“Let go! Let go of me!”
Alberto spat curses as he struggled with all his might.
Da-hong smiled coldly and asked him.
“What is it? Going to explain my strategy to me again?”
That was something you could only do if you’d won the match.
Upon hearing Da-hong’s mockery, Alberto’s face contorted with rage.
Yet he couldn’t help but ask anyway.
“That last fake! How did you know? It was a pattern I’d never used before!”
“Is that it? You came all this way just to ask me that?”
A coldness so sharp that a single needle prick wouldn’t draw a drop of blood.
Such chill and rigidity.
For the first time in ages, the expression of the true “Blade Queen” appeared on her face.
“Why should I answer you?”
“What, what did you say?”
“I’m not going to tell you. I’m not an idiot like someone else.”
Ye Da-hong turned away with a gentle smile in her eyes.
Alberto’s shouting echoed from behind her,
but now she didn’t care anymore.
Over these past few years, the pitch-black chains that had bound her were now completely severed.
“Was it worth deliberately twisting the knife?”
Da-hong glanced back over her shoulder.
Alberto was being carried out on the shoulders of a sturdy event staff member.
Soon what she had wanted came to pass.
[We hereby announce that Alberto, confirmed to have engaged in unsportsmanlike conduct during the tournament, has been disqualified. According to regulations, his participation in both the remaining team competition and solo matches is prohibited.]
“Oh dear. That’s a shame.”
Ye Da-hong covered her mouth with her palm in front of the camera.
Those who knew her well couldn’t help but chuckle.
There wasn’t a shred of sincerity in the gesture, obviously.
[Furthermore, a penalty has been applied to the Italian team. In the event of a draw occurring during a match in the quarterfinals, South Korea’s National Team will be credited with the victory.]
This was quite a windfall in its own right.
Sometimes double K.O.s happened during matches, or health bars ended up identical when time ran out.
It was a stroke of luck for Korean fans and something that would drive the Italian spectators mad.
“Alberto! You bastard!”
“If you’re going to lose, get out! Why are you making a scene?”
“Be careful on your way home, Alberto!”
“Don’t you dare show your face as a national representative ever again!”
“Booooooo!”
Crude curses and jeers rained down on Alberto as he was carried from the stage.
Even as he was being hauled away, Alberto kicked his legs without shame, fighting to the end.
A genius gamer who had reached the quarterfinals in every Capsule Cup—solo or team, no matter the format.
Today, Alberto boarded the express train to oblivion.
* * *
<K.O.!>
<Cloud WIN>
<South Korea 2 : 1 Italy>
Full set.
And a razor-thin contest where both sides had less than ten percent health remaining.
Unfortunately, the third matchup ended in Italy’s victory.
“Huff, huff!”
Da-hong stumbled into the waiting room and collapsed into a chair.
Rather than frustration over the loss,
the exhaustion that flooded her entire body hit far harder.
“It was only three matches, and yet… I had no idea consecutive games could be this grueling.”
Joint tilted his head in bewilderment.
“This isn’t my first international tournament experience, so why didn’t I notice this before?”
“Well…”
You know the answer, don’t you?
Da-hong fixed him with a pointed gaze.
“Because you’ve never won before. You only play consecutive games if you advance, but you always lose in the first round and go home. How would you know?”
“Ah…!”
Only then did Joint realize his blunder.
But Da-hong’s eyes had already shifted to Hae-rang.
“Looking back now, yesterday’s Perfect Kill seems even more impressive. It’s not just about skill level—how did he maintain that kind of focus through all eight matches?”
Your senses blur,
your mind grows distant.
Eventually your hands and feet stop responding to your will.
She’d won only half as many matches as Hae-rang had.
Da-hong found herself appreciating Hae-rang’s greatness all over again.
“You can’t be satisfied with the first course. We actually came close to winning that third matchup. I think it’s worth focusing on what Da-hong has already accomplished right now.”
“It’s all thanks to Hae-rang. Did you see Alberto chasing after him? He seemed awfully curious about that final moment.”
Da-hong broke into a clear, ringing laugh.
Perhaps others didn’t know, but the members of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult understood.
The last-ditch gambit Alberto had attempted.
Hae-rang had already demonstrated it during their training sessions.
[Just a moment.]
[Yes?]
[Hmm… This kind of application might be possible too. If Alberto makes a final stand, that is.]
When Alberto had replicated Hae-rang’s skill with precision,
Da-hong felt her hair stand on end.
Not merely copying the opponent’s movements and skills,
but predicting in advance the ‘evolution’ that would come next.
‘I’m five moves ahead of you.’
The famous line from a game character rose unbidden to her mind.
“I’ll go next!”
Joint climbed onto the stage, snorting with determination.
His enthusiasm, at least, matched that of any of his teammates.
After a gap of over five years, he had finally reclaimed his spot on the national team.
For him, it was a moment laden with meaning,
but the wall of reality was far colder than Da-hong’s sneer.
“Wooooh!”
“What is this noob doing.”
Joint, who had managed only a single win even in the National Team Selection Tournament,
had no chance of victory at the Capsule Cup.
<K.O.!>
<Cloud WIN!>
<South Korea 2 : 2 Italy>
After the first game, Joint lost two consecutive matches.
The only consolation they could find was that neither match had ended in a Perfect Defeat,
but the matchups had been overwhelmingly one-sided.
“Ha ha! What kind of player is this, representing the National Team?”
“The neighbor’s dog would play better than you!”
“Did you buy your way onto the national team with drinks?”
“This is why you have to choose your friends carefully.”
The European spectators, witnessing substandard play, jeered at Joint.
Though Joint didn’t speak English fluently, the tone alone made clear what they were saying.
But Joint lifted his head and straightened his chest.
‘If I let my spirits break here, that’s what would truly be pathetic.’
It would be a lie to say he wasn’t ashamed.
He wanted nothing more than to find a mouse hole and compress himself into it entirely.
Yet Joint maintained his composure as he returned to the waiting room.
“So what! You lot should make better friends too!”
He strode into the waiting room loudly, letting his voice carry.
He’d already burdened the team enough—he wouldn’t let the atmosphere sink further.
His companions understood his heart well.
“You did well. Joint.”
“Leave this round to me!”
“Let’s review that match together.”
“Right.”
Ma Hyeon-bin rushed toward the Capsule,
while Hae-rang went through the strengths and weaknesses of Joint’s previous match.
“Thanks. Next time I’ll be more careful. What do you predict for the coming match?”
“Fifty-fifty, I’d say.”
Joint’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Fifty-fifty? Even with how much Hyeon-bin trained, that’s what we’re looking at?”
“The arm bends inward, so it’s fifty-fifty at best. If we’re overwhelmed by the momentum of an opponent on a winning streak, it could get rough.”
Grim premonitions rarely prove wrong.
Ma Hyeon-bin had chosen Fubao as his character.
He loved animals, had taken a liking to the champion, and trained extensively as his main pick.
The type who performs best when the game is fun.
But just as it had been for Da-hong, Ma Hyeon-bin too carried the chains of an unbroken losing streak in international competitions.
The cheerful nature of Fubao had little room to flourish in such an unfavorable environment.
<K.O.!>
<Cloud WIN!>
<South Korea 2 : 3 Italy>
“Ooooooo!”
The Event Hall erupted in heat.
The crowd had every reason to roar—they’d turned around a match in which they’d been trailing 0-2.
Italy’s third competitor.
Sandro burst from the Capsule and swung both arms wide.
“Sandro! Sandro! Sandro!”
The crowd’s chant rang out through every corner of the Event Hall.
For someone like Ma Hyeon-bin, who was easily swayed by the atmosphere, maintaining composure must have been difficult.
“I’m sorry, Hae-rang.”
“Don’t be. You pushed that final set hard, and that made things much smoother for us.”
Hae-rang straightened Ma Hyeon-bin’s slumped shoulders with his own hands.
Then he gave a nod to his teammates.
[And here he comes! The captain of South Korea’s National Team! Gwanjong Cheonma Cheon Hae-rang! They say that those who’ve tasted the meat know best—and surely those who’ve pulled off a Perfect Kill can block it even better, wouldn’t you say?]
-Damn, how’d we get here;;;
-I thought we were winning until the two-game streak
-Now it all comes down to Gwanjong!
-Honestly, I feel guilty for wanting more wins;;;
-Forget it! Just win!
-We have no shame! Come on, Gwanjong Cheonma!
-Cheon Hae-rang! Cheon Hae-rang! Cheon Hae-rang! Cheon Hae-rang! Cheon Hae-rang!
-Way easier than yesterday, right?
-Right lol so like half the wins from yesterday lol lol
-Here goes Gwanjong to save the crisis-stricken Korean team ahhhhhhhhhhh
[Will Cheon Hae-rang pull off another miracle? The match begins right now!]

Rumble!
At the starting signal, Sandro’s Cloud unleashes Blood Burst with terrifying force.
The already scorching arena erupted like a volcano.
“Uhhhhhhhhh!”
He wanted to ride the momentum of his winning streak for all it was worth.
Sandro’s Cloud, intoxicated with excitement, slashed at Hae-rang’s entire body.
Crash! Bang!
It was nothing but one-sided offense.
As the crowd’s fever pitched higher, Hae-rang seemed unable to mount any defense.
Crash! Pow!
At some point.
Everyone on-site felt something was off.
“Huh…?”
At first, no one noticed—but as time passed, Sandro’s movements grew sluggish.
By the time the Blood Burst he’d unleashed at the starting signal finally faded,
Hae-rang’s health bar sat at ninety percent, while Sandro’s remained at one hundred.
Looking purely at health, Sandro held the advantage.
Yet it was Hae-rang whose expression gleamed bright,
while Sandro’s face had gone ashen as a runner who’d sprinted a marathon at high altitude.
‘You don’t know until you try.’
Even Hae-rang, after achieving a Perfect Kill, had slashed his evening training by half.
The stamina drain from the Capsule Cup was far worse than usual.
Sandro.
He hadn’t triggered Blood Burst to ride the momentum.
He’d felt his own stamina depleting and gambled everything on winning early—nothing more.
And just now.
Sandro’s gamble had failed completely.
“Now it’s my turn.”
The Fire Fist loaded at Hae-rang’s flank shot forward toward Sandro.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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